Quasimodo, My Love
by Annabeth Darcy
Summary: Have you ever loved someone you could not love? Have you ever called someone ugly? HoND  c  Disney/Victor Hugo  Old fanfic that I'm now ashamed of.
1. Chapter 1

Quasimodo, My Love:Part 1

The bases for this story, such as the main character, Quasimodo, were created by Victor Hugoin his book The Hunchback of Notre Dame, NOT me. Plus, some of the items in this story were kinda based on the Walt Disney version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I have taken liberties with this story.

Main Characters: Me

Quasimodo

Claude Frollo

Setting: Notre Dame Cathedral, France

I was a little girl when I first met the Hunchback of Notre Dame, though how little I knew of what he would come to mean to me I can not even describe.

I was attending services with my mother. I was about six years old, and in my child's mind I looked for a way to entertain myself. My eyes wavered across the room, to an eave in the wall. That was when I first saw him. At first I smiled at the thought of a playmate to distract me, but as I took a closer look, I gasped in alarm. He was hunched over, his back potruding at an obviously painful angle. He had a large wart covering his right eye, a horseshoe shaped-mouth, which was hanging open in speculation at the service, and a nose which seemed as though it had been shoved up from the bottom as far as it would go up. My eyes grew as wide as his, though mine were from, dare I say, horror, and his from wonder at the priest's sermon. Quickly I pulled at my mother's dress and asked her,"Momma, what's wrong with that boy?"

My mother, obviously annoyed at my interruption of her thoughts, looked to where I was pointing, and gasped in reply. She bent down to me(there was standing room only) and whispered,"That is bellringer, child;do not stare, and stay away from him." She then turned back to the service, and tried to act as if nothing had happened. / Unsatisfied with this answer, I decided to find out for myself. When I was certain that she was no longer interested in me, I quietly crept up to the eave in the wall. I turned around to be sure that my mother was not watching, and was relieved to see that a friend had offered her a seat on a pew, where they would sit gossiping the entire time. I gently poked my head around the corner, a turned to see his surprised face.

"Hello," I whispered.

He gaped back at me in, as I thought, surprise; but as I looked into his eyes...those pale blue, wondering eyes...I saw that it was not surprise as it was for me, no, it was fear. Purebred fear. His distorted face told me of all the fear that he now felt in his being. Shyly, I repeated my greeting, this time adding, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

This time he seemed to find a small voice in his throat."Will you tell anyone I'm here?" Even then, I noticed that though his body was deformed, his voice was far from it. A melody resounded from his throat, and I listened in awe.

Finding MY voice, I whispered back shyly,"No, I won't tell anyone. What's your name?"

Hanging his head in what looked like shame, he whispered,"Quasimodo."

I shuddered at the name. Half-formed. Funny how a name with so hideous a meaning could sound so beautiful. I wondered who would bestow such a name upon their own son. "What is your name?" His voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Oh. My name is Ashley. Would you like to play?"

He gasped. Puzzled, I asked him what was the matter."No one has ever asked me to "play" before," he replied, "How do you do it?"

This seemed strange to me, as I had never met a child who didn't know how to play before."Well, sing along with the hymns, or we could pay tag,or..."

"Excuse me, but what is "tag"?"

"Oh, that's a game where you run around and try to touch someone, then they try to touch you-"

"Touch me?" he interrupted, appalled,"Aren't you afraid to touch me?"

"Afraid? Why should I be?"

"Well...," he sounded as if he had never been asked this before,"I am a monster, you know."

"Hmmm...I don't think so."

"Wh-What do you mean? Of course I am, look at me"

"Well, you ARE a little scary looking, but monsters are big, and hairy and eat little children, and, and, steal chickens. You don't steal chickens, do you?"

He chuckled softly."No, I've never even left the cathedral before."

I opened my eyes wide."You mean you live hear? And you've never played outside, or, or been to the market?"

"How could I go outside? What would people say?"

I was confused. I had met ugly people before. The fish woman in the market was no sight for sore eyes, and the baker downtown had enough warts on his face to pass for a witch in a storybook, but ugly enough to not be allowed outside? True, at first he had frightened me a bit, but I could look at him now as though I had known him all my..."Oh," I suddenly realized, though I did not speak aloud. If people are frightened enough, they will do anything to keep what frightens them away from them. Even now I could not help but keep my eyes away from his face."That is not fair," I said.

He looked suprised. What a strange little boy this was! He had obviosly dealt with more than I had in his short life. He did not respond.

"It must be fun to live in the cathedral," I tried to say.

"How so?"

"Well, you must get to meet lots of children."

He shook his head. "You are the first child i have ever met."

"But why?"

"I'm not allowed to talk to other people," he answered quietly.

"But then, how is it that you are talking to-oh." I was suddenly very embarassed. I might have caused my new friend to be in trouble. I started to walk away.

"Wait!"

I spun around, surprised. He had his hand reached out, as if to stop me. He had even taken a step out of his eave in the wall. His pale skin turned a deep red, and he stepped back to where he was, head down.

For a child, I had a deep sense of compassion for this poor, misshapen boy. I ran quietly back to him. I reached out and gently put myhand on his face, raising his chin up to be level with mine. A look of pure shock lite up his face. I smiled. "My mother won't start looking for me for another hour, and if I'm going to be stuck here I want to have something to do. Show me were you live."

He gasped quietly, and hesitated. I smiled at him again, and this time, he smiled shyly back. "Alright," he whispered.

- It was a long climb up the steps to his chambers. After what seemed like hours, we finally reached his home. I gasped in wonder. There were bells everywhere. In a small corner, ther lay a bed, and a desk with a Bible upon it. Bits of stained glass hung in patterns on a small working table in the center of the room, with a scrap of parchment beside them, covered with letters of the French Alphabet. He keep the place tidy; there were very few bits of trash or bird defecations on the floor, even thogh there were lots of birds flying around above our heads.

"It's amazing!" I cried, knowing that no one from the service could hear us. Even still, Quasimodo ran over to me and covered my mouth with his hands. He quickly revived himself,though, and dropped his hands quickly witha look of shame about his face. "I'm sorry," he quickly said,"but if my Master were to have heard you-" he looked at me with sheer terror in his eyes before covering his face with his large hands, weeping softly to himself.

I looked at him in complete shock. None of the town boys ever cried, especially not in front of a girl. (I knew this because, always the tomboy at my age, I mostly spent my days with the young lads of my village.) I ran over to him, realizing that nothing but fear could cause him to act this way. He had now bent down to his knees, and I gingerly bent down upon mine as well. I draped myself over his hunched back, laying my head upon where his shoulder blades should be. I stroked his coase, red hair, and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his weeping. "There, there," I said to him, as my mother often said to me,"I'm here now."

Gradually, his sobs stopped, and he looked, at me, his eyes red-rimmed but still beautiful. I remember distinctly how beautiful his eyes were at that moment. His tears still wet on his face, he looked as though he had never known anyone like me before. I held his gaze for a minute, and then held out my hand to him to help him stand up. He stared at it, not sure what to do. Slowly, as if he expected me to jerk the hand away from him, he placed his hand into my own. I helped him up, but we did not dropped our hands. He held mine for a long time, I suppose as never having felt human touch before, taking his hands and feeling the lines on mine with his fingers. After a while, he regretfully pulled his hand away. I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

- My mother was not happy that i was not beside her when church service was demanded to know where I had been, and didn't I know how I frightened her when she had to come looking for me?

She seemed upset, so I simply told her that I had gone to play with the bellringer.

Mother stopped, then looked at me with disbelief, then with anger. "Do not EVER leave me in church again, Ashley. And more importantly, do not EVER play with that thing again. Do you understand?"

I was shocked. What was wrong with playing with a friend in church? I had done it many imes before with other children. And why had my mother called Quasimodo a "thing"? He was a boy, like any other, though. granted, he had a few undesireble features. When I inquired this, she spoke vehemently,"That "boy" is a disgusting monster, and if you touch him, or mmearly LOOK at him, you and your children will become as deformed as him."

I could tell thet my mother did not truly believe this, but I thought it not wise to tell her that I had touched, even held his hand, and was not harmed in the least.

That night, I was sent to bed without any supper for running off in church. Hungrily, I crawled up on my bed to gaze out my at the starry sky. I smiled at the stars, thinking of all the events of the day. I saw that one star shone brighter than all of the others. I knew it as the wishing star from my fairytale stories. I thought about what I wanted to wish for tonight, breezing past the usually ideas of wishing for a pony or to become the richest girl in Paris, knowing that I should wish for something importan. I took a deep breath, and whispered,"I wish that Quasimodo and I could be friends forever."

I knew I would find a way, no matter what my mother said. I knew I would.

-Let's skip forward a few years. At this point I was eight years old, and Quasimodo and I had been friends for about two years. He was much more comfortable around me, except I noticed that whenever I went to see him after he had met with his Master, Minister Claude Frollo, he seemed more tense and sad, and didn't sit as close to me as usual.

The way that I had continued to be friends with him was this: After that first Sunday, my mother started watching me a bit more closely, at least for a little while. Quasimodo would look for me from his hideaway eave, and I would signal to him that my mother was watching me too much for me to go play. Soon, though, her trust regained, and she believed that I had forgotten all about the Bellringer of Notre Dame. It was quite the opposite, though. On weekdays, I would go to the great church, and act as if I had come to give the monks flowers, or give some of my mother's cooking to them to give to the poor. He would wait for me in the eave, and I would sneek over to him, and we would o up to his home. Afterwards I would leave the church after about an hour's play, then go to vist my friends in the village, which is what I told my mother that I had been doing when I got home.

It was quite peculiar, the way I visited Quasimodo. He obviosly enjoyed my company, though I was instructed by him to NEVER VISIT HIM BEFORE LUNCHTIME. When I asked him why, he would look away and say that he couldn't explain, then change the subject.

I soon found out the answer to my long asked question. Once, when my curiosity had gotten the better of me, I went into the cathedral about half an hour before lunchtime.I walked into the church, and then saw Minister Claude Frollo making his way to Quasimodo's eave in the way. I lowered my head and curtsied as he walked by. He patted my head as he passed me, and I shuddered. Frollo was only forty or so, but he looked like an old man. With hair as gray as ashes, and a crooked old face with nose that appeared to have been broken,His bony old hand sent shivers down my spine, anI watched him move to our special eave, look about him, and then yank a boy out of stone by the arm he pulled him down a hallway, and then I could see no mor. My first thought was,"Who has hidden in our special hideout?" Then, with a sickening feeling in my stomach, I realizied that the only one who would hide in our special hideout was one of US. And Frollo was his master, so it made perfect sense. I hurried down the hall, hiding behind a statue that guarded the entrance to a large room. It was filled with statues of Saints, and the sun shone brightly through a stained glass window above, yet it seemed shady inside for some reason. My fears were confirmed; Frollo had dragged Quasimodo into the large room, and was now beginning to yell at him Quasimodo cowered on the floor. I was shocked to hear Frollo say such words and speak them in a tone of voice which I had never heard spoken befor in the House of God. I dare not repeat them now.

I watched with horror as I saw Frollo raise his hand, and with a resounding *smack!*, he struck his open hand across Quasimodo's face, the kicked him with a deaf thud. I cringed at the sounds, and I heard him say, in a voice so full of malice and hate,"Hold thy tounge, ugly wretch. Damn the filthy gypsy blood that courses through your twisted and deformed veins."

The predator glided out of the room, and I quickly hid myself in the shadow of Saint Peter. He passed by me, never turning back.

I stared at my friend, crumpled on the floor like a beaten rug, and I ran to him. I draped myself over his back, as I had done before so long ago. I cried for him, as I felt no tears on his precious face. He started, suprised, but when he saw that it was me, he smiled softly. I thought it strange that he did not cry, for I was weeping like a small babe. He reached up, hesitantly, and patted my hair. "Funny," I thought, "that he is comforting me, him just being beaten most cruelly." It was strange, that I, who had gone to comfort him, was now being comforted.

"What is the matter?" His voice sounded as though he had swallowed coarse wool.

"Why, you were horribly beaten, and I thought you to be dead until this moment."

He laugh, hoarse and soft, into my ear."I've had much worse beatings than that, and the only outcomes of it will be that I shall have no lunch today, and maybe a bruise tommorow."

I still continued to weep, though, so he fixed himself into a sitting position and held me tightly in his arms. His words of near two years ago resounded in my ears once more:" I'm sorry, but if my Master were to have heard you-"

Suddenly I felt myself being lifted, and I realized that he was carrying me. He quickly move up a flight of stairs with me, as though weighed nothing at all. We arrived in his chambers. He set me down gently upon his small bed, and I felt like a small child.I hurridly wiped the tears from my face, repeating over and over again,"I'm sorry,I'm sorry..."

He smiled at me.

"You must think me very silly, carrying on like that."

At this, he laughed, which I thought very peculiar."I would never think you silly, Ashley. I am glad that you cared for me."

I looked at. This was indeed the single strangest boy I had ever met."why were you heere today, Ashley?" said he.

I blushed a deep red. "I-I wanted t-to see why you didn't want me here abefore lunchtime."

Quasimodo's entire face changed. He looked at me with anger, and , startled, I jumped off his bed and backed away from him.

"Do you think it is merely because i grow tired of you that I do not want you here? You are the only friend that I posess, and I would do anything to spend all day with you, but my Master, he-," my friend stopped, breathing hard. He realized that he had frightened me, and hung his head, avoiding my gaze.

I soon rememberd that I had brought along food to give to the monks today, and he had no lunch. I carefully took the food out of my basket and placed it at his work table. I took his hand, and guided him over to the meal. He looked up and smiled at me. I smiled back.

-Once more, let us go forward a few years. Actually, quite a few years. Twelve, to be exact.

"Oh, Ashley, won't the festival be fun?" My friend Charlotte was always the fun-loving one, and when a party was approaching, she was always talking about it.

"W-what? Oh yes, the Feast of Fools. I'm sure it will be, Charlotte." Of course, I was exaggerting to please her. I always disliked the Feast of Fools. Drunken people electing a fake pope, and dancing around making fools of themselves just didn't appeal to me the way it did to Charlotte. Plus, I never had much fun when Quasimodo wasn't around.

"What it is, Ashley? You never enjoy the Feast; you stay for half an hour, then go for prayer at Notre Dame. There is such a thing as being too holy, my friend."

It was true. I wouldn't go at all, but Quasi always insisted that I go and enjoy myself. After wards, I would join him back at the cathedral and tell him all about it, year after year. The festival was to be in two days time, and this year, a notorius playright of Paris was to put on a show for us all, then we were to go on with the election of the King of Fools, a title so hartily sought after.

"You know, it's high time you start to live a little! NO man will want to marry a pious, little Saint! You should at least-"

*DING DONG* *DING DONG*

"Sorry, Charlotte, I have to run, I-promised the monks that I would help with poor today!"

"But Ashley, wait!" Charlotte's voice was lost in the distant ringing of bells.

-"I don't see why I need to go every year, Quasi." I was trying to talk some sense into my hunchbacked friend."I mean, Frollo must attend the festival all day, so we have more time to spend with each other."

"No, no, I don't want you to miss out on the fun."

Yes, fun. I knew the real reason that he wanted me to go. He wanted to hear about the festival and find out all that he was missing. Even now I could see the longing in his eyes to go. I decided to change the subject.

"Hey, what's this," I looked across his work table to see a bit of parchment with a picture drawn on it. It was a girl, with medium-length brown hair, plain clothes, and hand-me-down spectacles. I smiled when I realized that it was me.

"Oh! Don't look at that, I-I'm not finished yet." Embarrassed, he smiled shyly and pulled away the parchment.

I smiled at my friend. I now hardly noticed his deformities, having seen what he was really like firsthand, and being around him so often. He caught sight of me staring at him, and quickly turned away, ashamed. I shook my head. Couldn't he tell how much I lov-I mean, cared for him? He meant so much to me as my friend, and I stared at him because I was in such an awe that someone so wonderful would bother to give me the time of day. I touched his face, pulling his chin up to be level with mine. He looked up at me sadly. Sighing, I said,"Quasi, you know I don't-

*BONG*BONG*BONG*...

I was interrupted by seven bongs of the old town clock. With a look of panic on his face, he took my hand and led me quickly to the stairway. "Frollo's coming. Quick, there's a funeral procession today. Take these stairs and blend in with the mourners." With that, he shut the door to the stairwell.

Well that wouldn't be too hard. I was feeling miserable enough to at least look like a mourner. I couldn't explain it, but lately, whenever I left Quasimodo to go home, I felt eminscelly depressed. We almost always had a good time before I left, except for the rare times when Frollo had been extremely cruel to him and he needed comforting, but I still could not help but feel sad every time he shut that door. Of course, I was only friends with Quasimodo. He and I could never look at each other that way; we were best friends. Mind though, I cared for him greatly, and the crack about how much I loved him...that was just a mistake...wasn't it?

-The day of the feast had come. The play was extremely boring; but thankfully, it was only an hour long. The time to elect the King of Fools had come.

Perhaps I had better explain how this is done. A list of fools, both men and women, climbed up onto a stage in the square, try to make the most ghastly face, and whoever does that becomes the King of Fools and is paraded through the streets of Paris like a regular idiot.

I do not enjoy the Feast of Fools.

Anyway, Charlotte and I walked to the square with the crowd, Charlotte yammering all along the way. Soon, everyone was lined up for the contest. A tall gypsy man stood center stage, apparently hosting the contest. He wore a pointed, purple hat, brightly colored clothes, and a mask over his brown eyes. He was quite handsome, though he was clearly older than me by at least ten years. His eyes crossed over to me as he looked across at the crowd, and he winked at me. I blushed shyly, and Charlotte gushed over how handsome he was and how she hoped that he noticed her in the crowd. With her talking of things like love and marriage, I could not help thinking about his dark skin and hair.

Another gypsy was on the stage, this one a woman. She had hair as dark as the man, and skin the color of chocolate candies. Even with her tattered clothes and dirty hair, she was obviously beautiful. Even with her loveliness, I sensed something bad about her. Her aura signaled an evil that wanted to harm me, to harm someone I loved with her charms and nature. I eyed her suspiciously.

The gypsies began to bring people onto the stage for the election. After about ten people had climbed onto the stage, wearing masks that would be torn off before viewing their ghastly faces, I saw the man scan his eyes over the crowd, and speaking in his gorgeous accent, he said'"What? This is all who want to become king? No, that will not do, that will not do at all..." He began to pace back and forth, all the time looking in the crowd for possible kings. His eyes passed over me, then stopped, and looked again. A sly smile spread over his face, and he cocked an eyebrow. He raised his hand and pointed at me.

"You!"

Suddenly, my world turned upside down as all eyes turned to look at me.

"Of course! You would be the perfect king! Or, well, in this case, QUEEN of Fools!"

The sky turned red, and the crowd all moved toward me, pulling me up onto the stage, while I heard Charlotte repeating, over and over again,"Come on, Ashley, you never have any fun, any fun, any fun..."

The gypsy man grabbed my hands, and as I said no, again and again, he only pulled me up faster. He smiled at me.

"Come...Ashley...join all of us Fools...we get so...lonely...," he said, fingering my hair. And, even now, I could not help losing myself in his deep, brown eyes.

The masked Fools grew closer, but I soon realized that they wore no masks, that their frightening features were but real, and they reached with their long arms toward me, trying to enclose me in their grasp. I looked to my right, and there...there was the lovely gypsy witch that The man squeezed me tighter, and I started to scream, only to be answered by cruel laughter.

"NO!"

I heard a familiar cry, and I looked up to see a face so beautiful and heroic that I nearly cried. It was my hunchback, my beautiful, wonderful hunchback, coming to rescue me from the awful monsters that were attacking me. He swung on a rope tied to a stone gargoyle above. My archangel reached the stage, and as he swung down, the Demon Fools backed away. Quasimodo reached me, and untangled me from the gypsy's arms. He held me in his strong arms, swinging me away from the darkness, out of the burning red sky. We went into the clouds, and I looked up at him. He looked down at me, smiling. I smiled back.

Something was different this time, though. When I smiled, I wasn't satisfied with just the smile as I had been before, and neither was he. I held his smooth cheek, and looked into his blue eyes. I drew closer, slowly shutting my eyes...

But before our smiles could embrace, I saw her. The gypsy vixen was behind him, resting on his back. She looked at me and smiled, an evil, devil's smile, and she pulled my angel away from me. She pulled him away, and he looked back at me with the pain of separation in his eyes, crying out to me, and I cried back as he went farther, and farther, away...

*********************************************************************************************************************** I awoke with a start. The sound of my cries had moved me to awaken, and I was grateful that my mother was a light sleeper, and did not hear me. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead, I sat back on my bed to think of the events which had just occurred in my sleep. Gypsies, Fools, Charlotte, Kings, ropes, clouds, Notre Dame, smiles, holding, Quasimodo, seperation, a Kiss...

A kiss. What a strange dream. I felt so confused. How could I dream about kissing Quasimodo? Unless...

No. I did not love Quasi in that way. I couldn't love him in that way. My friend, my love... two different words in meaning, in life, in sound. I sighed a heavy sigh. When could I have ever felt anything but friendship towards Quasimodo?

Then I remembered.

When I was nine years old, not long after the first "Frollo incident," I had come to the cathedral crying. My mother had gotten mad at me for braking a vase that had been given to her by her mother, and had yelled at me for quite a long time. I had decided that she no longer loved me, if she ever had, and I decided to run away. I would go to live with Quasimodo, and I would hide under bells when Frollo came. It was raining, and by the time I had reached the church, I was soaked. He saw me crying in the sanctuary, and he came to me and brought me to his room. He brought me a blanket, and started a small fire in the corner of the room in a metal bowl. He never said anything, just looked at me to make sure I was okay, all the time with a worried look on his face. I cried some more, and then finally, when at last all my tears had been shed, I let out a shuddering sigh, and dried my eyes on his blanket.

"What happened?" He spoke with the voice of an angel.

I explained my situation, claiming that my mother never loved me, and had good reason not to, that I was worthless and would never deserve nor aquire true love from anyone, nor anything.

He stared at me the entire time, a look of sheer compassion on his face. Not once did he interrupt, nor did he tell me that I was wrong or being overly dramatic. When I had finished ranting, I found a tear left inside, and I closed my eyes as it rolled down my cheek.

At this moment, he stood up, and walked over to me. He gently brushed my tear away with his strong yet delicate hands, and he pulled up my chin to be level with his own, and said,"I will always love you, no matter what."

His ugliness melted away forever at that moment. I no longer saw him as disfigured, but as a compassionate friend who would care for me forever.

The memory brought me to tears, and I saw the truth. Though he had meant love, as in friendship, I would never see it as just that again. His gentleness, his happy smiles, his strength against such great oppression, all fled back to me in warm waves of undying love. I did love Quasimodo.

Quasimodo, my love.

A bright light shone on my bed from my window behind. I looked back, to see the same star that I had wished on so long ago. Feeling as though I was a child again, I turned back, sighed deeply, and wished a similar wish to the one I had made as a child.

"I wish to have Quasimodo to love forever."


	2. Chapter 2

Quasimodo, My Love:Part 2

Like I said before, the bases for this story, such as Quasimodo, were created by Victor Hugo, in his book, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Some other things were derived from the Walt Disney version of this story, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. VICTOR HUGO AND DISNEY OWN THE STORY! I HAVE TAKEN LIBERTIES WITH THIS STORY!

=========================================================================================== I awoke the next morning. Today was the Feast of Fools. Tense as I was from last night's discoveries, I hurried to get dressed and was anxious to see Charlotte.

I knew that I must attend the festival today so that I could finally get over the haunting dream that had plagued me the night before. After the festival, I knew that I must go to the cathedral and see him. I knew I had to tell Quasimodo how I felt, or I would be tortured by this agonizing feeling of wanting.

-Charlotte and I were as bored by the play as I had seen in my dream. We made our way with the crowd to the square, me all the time anxious and Charlotte all the time excited. I tried to distract myself and ease my tension by listening to Charlotte's constant babble. We reached the stage, and As the music started I looked up. I gasped in alarm.

My nightmare had come alive. There was the handsome gypsy man that had pulled me onto the stage in my dream. I knew it was silly, but I convinced Charlotte to move to the back of the crowd anyway. As his brown eyes scanned the crowd, he saw me, just as in the dream, and winked at me. I lowered my eyes and shuddered.

In a moment of bravery, I darted my eyes to look behind him, seeing what I feared I'd see; the gypsy witch of my nightmares was there again.

Soon, the election began. With there horrific masks on, the Fools gathered onto the stage. Just as in my dream, ten gathered on the stage, and the man scanned his eyes in the crowd for more. He looked my way, and I watched I horror as I saw him raise his hand to point toward...

A guy in the crowd wearing a hood.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and watched as they brought the hooded figure forward. Bent over, as he was, he looked like an old man.

"Come on up, sir. Clopin will help you up." So that was the gypsy's name. Even though he had been a nightmare the night before, I still could not help but notice how handsome he was.

"La Esmeralda, if you will," said Clopin, giving a faux bow,"Let the festivities, BEGIN!"

The girl walked to the front of the line, pulling of the first contestant's mask. "This one isn't right. No, nor the next. Or the next. Goodness, this will never do. These next six are simply horrid. Ah, but this last one; he has potential! Esmeralda, pull off this chap's mask!"

With this, the smiling girl stooped down to pull off his mask, stepping on his cloak in the process. With this, the cloak fell, and so did the girl's smile, for this "mask" was no mask at all, but his face! The cloak fell to reveal a hunched over body, covered by a dirty tunic and white-as-snow skin. His hair was a coarse red-brown, and his face was covered by disfiguration and shame. I saw my beautiful hunchback breathe in short, quick gasps as the crowd gaped, and I realized that he was having a panic attack. He bent over, as if in pain, and covered his face, trying to block out the cruel world.

"Yes! We have found him!" The shocked crowd turned to look at Clopin, who was now standing with one foot on Quasimodo's back, laughing his head off. "The most gruesome face in all of Paris is here! We have found, our King of FOOLS! HAHA!"

With this, Clopin jumped over Quasi's back, taking a crown from Esmeralda and placing it onto Quasimodo's head.

The crowd burst into cries and applause, taking the confused hunchback to the rickshaw prepared for the king and placing him in it. The crowd began to roam through the streets of Paris, taking their new king with them.

I was so confused. How did he come down without being noticed? Why did he come down? What would happen to him when they grew tired of their "king"? And...where was Frollo?...

Oh no...

-I hurried along the street, trying to catch up to the crowd. I tried to process everything that had happened through my head. Frollo must attend the festival, being the archdeacon of Paris, as a public official. He must have see the "crowning," so where could he be? If he caught up to them ther was no telling what he might do to poor Quasimodo, and I tried not to think about it.

Charlotte jabbered on behind me, still enthused over the new "king," and I struggled to ignore her as I ran."Isn't this exiciting, Ashley? Can you believe this year's king? Ugh, I still have shivers. Did you see his FACE? It was absolutly HIDEOUS!"

I spun around, ready to defend." Don't you ever call him ugly again, Charlotte! He looks different, okay? I could hardly what he looks like, and you...you-you do not even know him. Excuse me!...have to catch them, or it will be all my fault..."

Charlotte looked at me as though I had slapped her in the face. In a moment, she regained her spirit and hurried after m, calling,"Ashley, wait! What is the matter?Do YOU know him?...Wait, Ashley, I was only joking, but-you do spend so much, time, at thte cathedral, and-doesn't he live there? Oh, Ashley, wait! How will it be all your fault? What will?...!"

So she had heard my mutterings at the end. I shrugged it off. It didn't matter now. the only thing that mattered was that I caught up to them...

- I breathed harder and faster. I was catching up to them now. When I finally reached them, I saw that they had lowered the rhickshaw and had placed him atop the hangman's stage, where the the archdeacon stood before convicting the guilty. Even now there stood an old man, lying witherd in the stocks, his only entertainment being the townsfolk who chose to throw rotten food at him each day. Today he looked reaky for a new bit of entertainment, a happy smile on his face.

The King of Fools stood, watching over his subjects, tears of joy streaming down his face. Even now, in all his mockery, he looked as wonderful as I could ever imagine him. I moved as close to the stage as the crowd would allow, and I tried to catch his eye. I saw that he still could not see me, so I pushed closer still, knocking over a disgarded vegetable cart as I went. The crowd turned to face me, saw what I had done, and a devilish look lit up their eyes.

I watched in horror as I saw a man bend down to pick up a rotten fruit, and the rest of the crowd cheered their mighty king, he threw it and hit him him in the face. I saw the juices splatter down his face, and he looked up in alarm at his offender. The crowd laughed, and began to join the man, shouting and laughing out of sheer cruelty.

It felt familiar as I saw the sky go red. I watched in utter terror as they battered him over and over again with rotten food. He finally caught my eye, and he gazed at me with pleading sadness. I cried. Tears streamed down my face as I sank to my knees, but no one noticed. I felt hands on my shoulders, but I pushed them away. I looked at him as he cried too, for what seemed like an eternity, but he finally looked away, down to the platform, shielding his eyes from further assault. His body shook with bone-shuddering sobs of anguish.

My breath came in short, quick gasps as I tried to will this nightmare away. Soon Quasi would pull away from them and come swinging down to rescue me from this torture. I told myself that over and over."All my fault...all my fault..."

I looked up to see if he really had stood up to swing down to me, and was met with the witch of my dreams. The gypsy vixen had climbed to where he now stooped, and the throwings ceased. All grew grew silent, and I watched in agony as she touched the hair of my angel. He looked up in alarm, and flinched when he saw her bend down to him to help him up. She smiled an encouraging smile, and he cautiously accepted it. They stood, and she turned to face the crowd.

"Shame to all of Paris on this day! This poor creature is a kind bird in a cage, that you have chosen to poke sticks at! Shame!"

I then saw, from the corner of my eye, the man who I feared would come. Claude Frollo stood, and directed his men to arrest the gypsy Esmeralda. Esmeralda looked his way, and in an instant, disapeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving Quasimodo alone, left only to run to the belltower.

It was all too much for me. My hands slipped off of their cobblestone support, and the world faded to black.

- I felt gentle, callused hands on my face as I wandered back into conciousness. I looked up to see two faces; one familiar, the other frightened. The frightened one I quickly recognized as Charlotte, but the I could not place, though I felt that I had seen it before, in a dream...

My nerves seized up, and my hands fled to my heart. The tanned, gypsy face curved into a smile, and he turned to Charlotte as if to say, I told you so.

I tried to remember where I was, and a flood of horrifying memories came back all at once. In reflection of those memories, a single tear slide down my face.

"Ah, so you finally decided to wake up, little priestess. What's this? Tears? I assumed that you had cried all the tears of the world already, as we found you fainted in a puddle. Do, not cry now, child. You have been through quite a tale, and you must not bring it all back to your eyes so quickly."

"Oh, Ashley, I thought that you shan't would wake again, my friend. Um, Clopin, saw you fall, and he came over to me and helped."

So it was Charlotte's hands that I had felt on my frame before. I reached up to feel my head, which was not throbbing with pain. I flinched as I felt a bump staring to form.

"You had quite a bump the head, there. Now, my dear, I know that you have been through much, but please, tell me, what has happened to you?"

As I stared into his honest, questioning eyes, I felt compelled to tell this near stranger everything. With Charlotte nearby, I began to relate my friendship of past years. Charlotte's eyes grew wide, and both she and Clopin gave oneanother a knowing look.

"Ah, little priestess. What an appropriate namesake. Charlotte here told me all about your...holiness, spending every afternoon in the cathedral. I found it quite hard to believe that a girl of twenty years should find joy in a church. I naturally expected that a young month had, oh, stained the holy cloth, but I never expected to have dealt with THIS. Imagine! In love with the Hunchback of Notre Dame! Few girls can claim such a thing, my dear."

I looked up in alarm. I had only recollected my friendship, not my newfound feelings. Charlotte looke at me in shock, saying,"The idea! Ashley, I sware I told no such clues. G-gypsy, take back those words, those untrue, filthy, awful-

"It's okay, Charlotte. He tells the truth."

Charlotte looked at me in shock, then at Clopin with embarassment and shame. He smiled cockily at her in answer. I looked back at the cobblestone.

"My dear little priestess, tis nothing to be ashamed of! Clopin has stolen many hearts in Paris, including your friend Charlotte's, and knows all the signs of a female in la mor."

Charlotte turned a deep shade of red, and looked at him defiantly. He only winked and kissed the air, making her turn away, blushing all the more deeply.

I stared at the gypsy. Something about him reminded of something important, and dangerous...

I suddenly remembered, and sat up to leave, sending a flood of dizziness over my eyes. Clopin turned toward me, a flash of seriousness on his face. And staring into those sweet, brown eyes, I somehow forgot all of my troubles. How could anything go wrong with such an angel to hold me in his gaze standing before me?

"He went back to the cathedral, Ashley. Surely Frollo will be there soon to give him his punishment."

He understood, and the gypsy witch's face flooded back to my mind's eye. "Clopin, is the gypsy girl...Esmeralda...is she troublesome?"

"She is...rebellious. Do not worry, little priestess. She is safe out of harms way by now." He didn't see what I meant. I didn't care if she was out of danger. I only cared if she was to bring Quasimodo into trouble with her."Tell me, Clopin-would she ever put anyone else in trouble with her?"

Realization. "She is goodhearted. She would not intentionally bring harm to someone."

He said this with sadness in his expressions. I understood. She had unintentionally harmed his heart, and I doubt that she knew or cared. I took a clue and stopped talking.

Soon I felt ready to stand. With Charlotte supporting me and Clopin holding my hand and my other side, I soon gained my balance. As Charlotte let go, Clopin spun around and held me at the waist with his strong arms. He stared at me with a rare sense of seriousness, captivating me with his gaze. I melted in his arms, and he soon was keeping me from falling, though he seemed not to notice. "The Hunchback is a lucky man," he said, passion in his rustic voice,"and he truly is the King of Fools if he does not see what is right in his grasp." With that, he bent down, his eyes slowly closing, his soft lips reaching mine, and holding me in their strength. I breathed in his sweet smell, eyes closed, savoring each moment. I had never experienced such a powerful feeling, and as he gently pulled away, I looked up at him, surprised. He slowly slipped his hands away, and his gaze lingered on me as he began to walk away. He passed by a shocked Charlotte, and he gaily skipped behind her, a mischievious smile on his lips, then kissed her on the cheek, jumping away just in time before her hand reached back to slap him. He laughed, his bells jingling all the way along the cobblestone street.

I knew it had meant mostly nothing, but I couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, I had been wrong about his feelings toward Esmeralda...

- My fingers went to my lips as I walked toward Notre Dame. My cheeks were hot as a blush slowly creeped over them. Even now, as I was going to the home of my true love, I could not help but think of the gypsy's strong arms around my waist and the feel of his breath on my skin. I could still smell the musk on my skin from his embrace as I went down the cobblestone street.

"A-Ashley! Where are you going? You can't go to the cathedral now! You heard what CLopin said, and besides, you are not well enough to go by yourseelf."

I turned back to stare at my friend. My sweet, caring, ridiculous friend. How had I been so selfish, as to go without saying goodbye, without thanking her for bearing the emotional stress of a lifetime?

"Charlotte, I'm sorry. Thank you, so much, for helping me. I know that this is a lot to absorb, but I have to go. You see...it's such a strange feeling, this love. It calls me, and tells me that I have to listen to it. I can't ignore it. You are such a good friend to me, and I'm sorry for the trouble that I've caused, but...I love him, Charlotte. I don't care if Frollo finds me, so long as he's safe. I love him.

Charlotte looked at me with a sense of intellectuality that I didn't know she possed. She said,"Go after him, Ashley. He's your true love."

Yes, he is my true love. Quasimodo, my love.

- Dark clouds hung over Notre Dame. I pushed open the fimiliar wooden doors, feeling that they were heavier than normal. I saw a statue of the Virgin Mary. Had she always looked as though she was about to cry? Of course. She was crying for my angel.

I looked around, but didn't see Frollo, so I went to our familiar eave in the wall, and climbed the stone stairway. Each stair was a mile high.

I reached the door, and listened for a voice, a sob, a sound, but heard nothing. I slowly opened the barrier between myself and my savior. The chambers were dark, and silent. The bed was bare, and as my eyes sweeped across the room, I saw a figure huddled in the center of the room. I walked, though I wanted to run, to that fimiliar figure, feeling a tear slid down my cheek as I went. I stood over him, unable to see his face. He made not a sound, but I saw a puddle of fresh tears beneath him.

"Quasi?"

Nothing.

I knelt down, gently putting my hand on his back. His shirt was ripped, and stained with vegetable juices. I closed my eyes, remembering that it was my fault that those stains were there. His hair was tangle and stuck in clumps from dried juices. He didn't move from my touch. Fearing the worst, that Frollo had satisfied the worst punishment, I placed my head next to my hand. I sighed in relief, hearing a heartbeat. I kept my face there. reating on his bare back, feeling the ripped lines on his tunic with my fingers.

I heard someone.

I tensed up, waiting for someone to find us here, all alone with nothing to protect us, but I soon realized that it was Quasimodo that I had heard. Soft sobs issued from his throat, and I listened in agony. I reached down to feel his face, and fresh tears wetted my hand. I wiped them away, then found his hand, holing it in my own. I let him cry, shedding tears myself.

I sat up. I went to his bedside table, and pulled out a new tunic from a drawer. I came back to him, coming to the other side. I held his hands for a few moments, then I helped him sit up. I leaned my head against his breast, his arms around me. I gently pulled away his mangled tunic, replacing it with the new one. His twisted body glowed pale in the dim light and, seeing where some fruit had soiled his perfect skin, I wet a scrape of cloth from his shirt, and cleaned him. I replaced his tunic, and I held him again. He never said a word.

Sobs still shook his body as i lay there in his arms. He had never cried this way before. The times that I had seen him cry, he usually tried not to, because he was stronger than that, and he didn't want to upset me. He was hurt beyond belief at this moment. I had hurt him beyond belief. I began to sob as well, his never ending, mine never stopping. I would hear those tears for the rest of my life.

- Eventually, we looked at each other, our arms still wrapped around one another. He stared at me with pain unimaginable in his eyes, and I stared with a look pleading for forgiveness for what I had done.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, as tears continued to run down our faces.

He held me tighter, placing my head on his chest once more. Still sobbing, he replied "For what?"

"I-I knocked the fruit cart over. It was my fault that they-that they-oh, Quasi!"

"Your fault? N-no, t-that wasn't y-your fault. I-it wasn't y-your fault that I was born a-a m-m-mons-ster."

This brought forth another wave of sobs, killing a small part of me with each current.

"Quasimodo, you aren't a monster. You couldn't posibly be a monster, because I lov-"

He pushed my shoulders forward with his hands, staring at me angrily. "Ashley, look at me! I'm hideous! Stop telling me that I'm not a monster, because people who are not monsters aren't pelted with rotten fruit!"

He told me this with anger and hurt shining in his tear-stained face. His face changed, and he melted down again to a weeping child, upset that he had hurt me. He held me back against his breast, and we sobbed on.

- When we had sobbed all that our eyes would allow, we stood, holding each other's hands. I looked into his eyes, the fimiliar blue deep in misery. My green eyes undoubtedly just as miserable, I stared at him, not understanding how he could deal with all this torment.

It had grown dark, as we had been crying for hours together. He looked out one of the windows, saw the stars, and told me that I should probably get home soon, but there was something that he wanted to show me first.

We walked up a seperate staircase that he used to reach some of the bells. There was a window behind a bell, and he carried me on his back as he climbed out, going to the roof of Notre dame. I gasped in wonder. Paris layed out in front of me, the Seine running swiftly below us. The stars shone down on us, and I caught sight of my old wishing star, but chose not to wish on her tonight. I stole a glance at my wish that I had held for so long, I saw that even he had small smile on his face when looking out at Paris, despite the events of the day.

I shivered with the cold. He took notice, and I saw him look at me with concern as he slipped his arm around me. I shivered again, but not from the cold. I sighed. I had to tell him.

"Quasi, I-"

As he turned to me, I felt all of my bravery slip away, and I couldn't find my voice.

"What is it?" Gosh, did his eyes have to look THAT gorgeus?

"Oh, nothing. I mean, doesn't it, doesn't it look beautiful?"

He smiled at me, but I didn't know why. I cocked an eyebrow at him and wryly smiled."What?"

"I just think it's amazing that you can talk about something being beautiful with me in the room."

The smile left my face. I frowned at him, and he looked confused.

"Quasimodo, you must have never looked in a mirror and looked in your eyes to say that about yourself."

I stood up, crossing my arms. I blinked back the tears as he stared up at me in confusion and alarm. Gosh, would he never understad that I loved everything about him, his gentlness, his kind, caring heart, and I loved his looks. I wouldn't settle for anyone else, no matter how handsome they were. My fingers raised instinctively to my lips as I thought this, a pang of guilt breaking inside.

He stood behind me, still confused, turning me around with his gentle hands. I looked up at him, and I could no longer control myself, staring into those sweet eyes, I carefully began to lean in, and as my hand reached up to touch his soft face, I slowly closed my eyes to his confused and startled expression...

*BONG*BONG*BONG*

I back away suddenly frightened by the sound of ten loud bongs from the city clock tower. Ten o'clock? Time had passed by so quickly, and we had not heard the previous tolls of the clock. He looked at me in alarm, and we quickly hurried back to his chambers. He took me to the staircase, but I was in no hurry. My mother wouldn't be expecting me to be late, but I could slip in at Charlotte's, who had no parents, and stay the night with her, and tell my mother that that was what had happened the next morning.

"Goodbye, Ashley. Thank you for...thank you."

I knew that it was to late now to carry out my previous plans, but I would be partially satisfied. "Goodbye, Quasimodo. Can I see you tommorow?" When he answered yes, of course, I stooped down, rested my hand on his shoulder, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. A bewildered hunchback stared back at me as I gazed seriously into his eyes, and as I turned to go, when walking down the staircase, I looked back to see him fingering his cheek as he shut the door...

The next morning, after I had told my mother about staying with Charlotte, I decided to take a walk through town and try to figure out my situation. As I walked, his image flashed over and over again in my mind, and I replayed the events of last night again and again, becoming more confused of what I was to do each time. I knew for a fact that I didn't deserve him, but I knew that I wanted him, and though it was selfish, it seemed to outweigh the other.

I heard a familiar accented voice as I rounded a corner in my path. I turned to look in the direction of the sound, and saw him there, my gypsy romancer, Clopin, entertaining a crowd of children with puppets. I moved closer, and he caught sight of me. As he continued with his children's story, I saw that he winkd in my direction. I smiled at him and blushed, going back along my path. I stared back at him as I went, not looking where I was going, which caused me to nearly run straight over the Archdeacon of Paris, Claude Frollo.

I jumped back, startled, and curtsied, embarassed and afraid. "Oh, forgive me, father. I was not watching where I was going."

Even though I did not meet his gaze, I could feel his frown of disapproval burning through my mind. "Yes, well see to it that you do so now on." He diped his head in reply to my curtsy, and I stared after him as he went by with his soilders. Two were left behind as they went, just finishing pasting a paper to a wall. When they had caught up to Frollo, I went to they poster that they had placed on the wall. It held a rough sketch of a beautiful girl, the words, "Wanted," and "L500" scrawled along the outline in brutish handwriting. I gasped, recognizing Esmeralda's face in the image.

Trouble. Big trouble.

- "This is trouble alright, Little Priestess. We'll have to ensure that she gets into the Court of Miracles tonight, and stays there." Clopin was studying the image carefully, apparent heavy thought on his mind.

"The...Court of Miracles?"

"Where we gypsies hide from Frollo and his soldiers. We can live there without fear of being arrested. Fro;;o hasn't found it for twenty years, and let's hope to keep it that way.""wasn't she there last night? I mean, with all that happened, I would think that she would want to stay out of the law's eye."

"I'm sure that she did, but it's a big place, and didn't see her, though I usually do. When she comes home, I try to give her a shilling or two of my earnings.." Concern filled his face, and I felt a little upset that his feelings for her had been confirmed, though I wasn't sure why.

Our thoughts were interrupted by the sound of ringing bells. We looked toward Notre Dame, then at each other.

"I-"

He nodded, understanding. I smiled at him, and her returned the favour. After i had walked a few steps, I turned back to wave at him, but he was gone. Puzzled, I turned back to where I was headed, only to see his grinnig face ab inch away from mine. The rascal had cartwheeled over to where I was now standing. and had jumped silently next to me when my back was his eyes half-closed, he smiled at me seductivly, hands on his me with his arms at my waist again, he kissed me with more force than the last time, and this time, not being able to help it, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. He seemed surprised, for his lips faltered for a moment, but then returned with the same passion as before.

Whe he drew away, he did not let me go as he had before; rather, he held me a bit longer, gazing at me romanticly with those choclate brown eyes.I stared at him in what can best be described as a mixture of surprise, love and strange confusion.

"We've got to stop ending our meetings like this," I said, a weary smile spreading on my warm lips.

"Yea verily," he replied, grinning seductively,"I say that we should begin AND end meetings like this.

I blushed as he lightly kissed my lips again, sending shivers down my spine. He slowly drew away, and winked at me, then ran down the street in his gypsy fashion, sending a made up tune:

"A-shley, oh A-shley,

To take a kiss from A-shley.

Be it soft, and be it sweet,

To get a kiss from A-sh-ley!"

I laughed as he cartwheeled and skipped gaily down the walk, singing all the way. When he was out of sight, my smile I was more confused than ever before.

- I drew nearer to the church of Notre Dame. I had made up my mind. Quasi was more important to me than anyone, and I had to tell him. As bells rang in the towers above, I walked inside the great stone building.

I climbed the long stairwell, trying to think of what to say. As I reached the door, I gently knocked, and was surprised to see it jerk open as soon as my hand left the frame. I faced a frightened Quasimodo, holding the door with such force that it might break.

"Oh, Ashley, I-I didn't realize that you would be here so soon."

Under normal circumstances I would have told him that I would com back later, but now was too important to leave. "Quasi, I have to tell you something-"

"Oh, yes, Ashley, well, you see...oh,um...come in."

I was puzzled. Watching him suspiciously, I stepped into his room. It was unusually untidy, with a few papers spilled on the floor, and a stool knocked over from his worktable. I turned toward him, as if to ask, what's wrong?, but he looked quite distressed himself. He kept wringing his hands, fidgeting and biting his lip.

"Quasi, are you alright?"

"Me? Oh yes, I'm fine. What was that you wanted to tell me?"

I sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. I turned away, picking up the lopsided stool. Crossing my arms, I began to pace the room. Suddenly, my eye caught sight where his bed normally was. He had placed a dark curtain around it. I stepped toward it. Frowning, I reached out to touch it-

Suddenly I felt Quasimodo's hand on my arm. He was right beside me, pulling me to face him. Startled, I drew in a quick breath. He looked frightening, staring at me as if to say,NO! He soon composed himself, though, and gently pulled me away to the door.

"I'm sorry, Ashley, but I'm really not feeling well enough to talk with anyone today. I-I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye."

"But Quasimodo, I-"

Slam.

I stood there in the dark, waiting to see if the door would open again. When it didn't, I slowly began to walk down the stairs. As I descended into the darkness, I thought I heard a voice, but then I heard nothing.

- Laughing, I struggled to keep up with my partner, barefooted in the streets of Paris. He spun me left, then right, then twirled me in his arms, a piper playing in the background. He lifted me above his head, smiling, sun shining on his tan face. I gazed into his soft brown eyes, still trying to keep up with the gypsy's ballroom dance. I stumbled, out of step, and Clopin laughed when I slipped in his arms. He had decided to teach me after I had seen the gypsies gathered in the square dancing for coins. I had begun a dance for all, even small children joining in.

"Why don't you join in?" he had asked me, and I rolled my eyes, commenting on my "gracefulness." With that, he told me, then I will show you how! and had grabbed me in his arms, spinning me to and fro until I had picked up somewhat on the rhythm.

We leaned against the caravan parked in the street, laughing, out of breath. I saw that the gypsy girls wore no shoes, and, following suit, I took of mine, feeling free and careless, as though I were one of them. He had now grabbed my shoes, holding them away from me as I tried to grab them. "Clopin, give them back!" I shouted breathlessly, still laughing.

"Stop!" My cries were interrupted back a harsh voice, which caused all the gypsies to turn to it's speaker. Minister Claude Frollo was there, on his horse, surrounded by his man. "Captain, take these filthy gypsies to the Palace of Justice."

A tall, blond solider stepped forward, sending the men toward us. Clopin swept me up in his arms, rushing me forward with his people. We ran forward, darting through corners and passageways, not knowing where we would go...

At least, I didn't know where we were going. But the gypsies seemed to have some sort of determined direction in mind. I looked up at Clopin, who was carrying me in his arms. His face was grave, and he looked forward, only turning back to check that all the gypsies were keeping up. I wondered why he was carrying me, when it would probably be easier to let me run beside him. Then it hit me. We were going to the Court of Miracles, and I didn't know the way. I would lag behind, and slow up the group, where we would be caught.

I turned back to look for Frollo and the soldiers, but they seemed to have lost us for the moment, though I could hear heavy hoofbeats behind us. When I could no longer hear them, we had reached an entrace to the sewers of Paris. I watched in horror as each gypsy jumped down into the underground tunnel, Clopin holding the doorway open. When the last gypsy had slipped down into the sewage, he swept my legs up into his arms, grinning at me. I stared wide-eyed at him, unable to believe what he was about to do. But before I could protest, he jumped down into the hole, him laughing, I shrieking. We landed with a thud, the bilge ankle deep. He waded through it, still carrying me in his arms. When my eyes had adjusted to the light, I gasped in horror, covering my mouth in shock. Row after row of skulls lined the walls, staring at me with their hollow eyes, sometimes grinning at me with missing teeth. I buried my face into Clopins shoulder, and I could feel him starting to smile. He squeezed me tighter and I relaxed.

Catacombs. Of course the entrance to the Court of Miracles would be through the Catacombs. Anyone who could stand the smell down here enough to go in, they would quickly turn back once they caught sight of the live-in moved down the tunnel, now caught up with the crowd. Some had grabbed torches off the walls, making the skulls look all the more erie. When we had reached the end of the tunnel, everyone stopped, and it went dead silent. Clopin looked as if he were counting, waiting for something. When he had couted to what looked like ten, The room turned pitch black. All of the torches had been extinguished.

From high above, another set of torches were lit, held by several skeletons. They laughed, jumping down to grab us. I screamed.

- Buried in Clopin's shoulder, I squeezed my eyes tight, hoping to will this awful nightmare away.

I opened my eyes when I heard the sound of Clopin laughing. He was in such hysterics that he almost dropped me into the sewage. I looked up at him in shock, and soon the room was filled with laughing gypsies. I looked at the skeletons, who were laughing as well. One of them PULLED THEIR SKULL OFF, and the others followed suit. They were gypsies as well.

I turned a deep red, realizing that these were the guards placed at the entrance to the Court. Everyone laughed as we filed into a now open secret door. As we walked in, I gazed in wonder, despite my embarrasment. Brightly colored streamers hung up from tents and poles. Intricately designed rugs hung on tents and all along the cobblestone streets. A minature Paris had been built within the walls of the sewers.

Clopin put me on my feet, still laughing, bent over now. as the gypsies wandered off in different directions, I noticed several of them stopped to talk with Clopin, thanking him for his help. I was confused. I thought that they all went at once, not much of a plan in mind other than to get here. Was Clopin...their leader?

I stared at him. He had finally stopped laughing, and was smiling as he surveyed his people's home. He caught sight of me staring, and busted out laughing again. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I'm sorry, Little Priestess, but I could not resist! We do not get many outsiders here, and the chance to scare one without popping 'em off, was too much! Too much!" He was still laughing as he put his arm around my shoulder, walking with me through to streets of their make-shift city. I glanced around at the dark faces, some smiling, while most reached a particurally large building, with a piece of cloth hanging for a door. Clopin held it open for me, performing a mock bow. I laughed, walking inside. I was met with a council of gypsy men, staring at me with astonished expressions on their tanned faces. Clopin soon entered, placing his arm on my shoulder. The men looked as though they understood something, and turned back to their work. Clopin walked with me over to them, staring down at the table they were workin at. A large map of Paris with red dots all over was layed out, and Cloin looked at it with a worried expression.

"Now that their looking for the girl, it's put all of us in danger," said one of the men,"We can't walk down the street without one of Frollo's men there to arrest us."

"Aye, what say you, Trouillefou?" One of the men adressed Clopin. "Didn't you just get chased down here? Anyone captured?"

"No, we all made it here safely. We lost Frollo in a relatively short time, though his men are becoming less dense since that Captain Phoebus joined their horde."

"Yes, well you might have gotten here faster, if you weren't slowed up by..." The first man, a husky brute, cast his eyes toward me, then looked away when I caught his eye.

"Jacque," spoke an angry Clopin, "I'm sorry, did I ask for your opinion on how we could have gotten here faster? No? Well then, keep it to yourself. As long as I'm leader here, I'LL decide the strategies for reaching the Court."

"He has a point, Clopin. You know we can't trust outsiders here." Another man spoke this, avoiding my gaze.

"What was I to do, Louis? If I had left her, she would have been questioned and imprisoned."

"Wouldn't 've been imprisoned if she answered the questions." This was muttered by Jacque.

"What?" Clopin jerked his head to face Jacque.

"Come on, Trouillefou. Your already willing to risk all our lives for that whore! Why not find another little slut to endanger us?"

An enraged Clopin jumped forward, drawing a knife. Jaqcue spilled out of his chair, frightened for a moment, then angrily pulling out his own. As scared as I was, I could not help feeling angry myself. Without thinking, I picked up a knife from the table, and, holding it in my right hand, I stepped forward and slapped a surprised Jacque in the face. I kicked the knife out of his hand, grabbed his collar, and held my knife to his throat.

Through clenched teeth, I said,"Call me a slut again, and you'll be wearing your innards for a hat." I then spit in his face, while he stared up at me, eyes wide with shock.

The room was in standstill for a moment, then Clopin broke the stillness with a laugh. He doubled over, laughing so hard that he couldn't breathe. Soon the other men joined in, including Jacque. He sat up, pushing my knife away and loosening my grip. He picked his knife off the ground, then raised his arms in mock surrender. "M'Lady, forgive me. I had no idea that such a small girl had such a mouth or gaw. Haha!"

Clopin slipped the bread knife out of my hand, still laughing. "Well men, can she stay?"

"I don't reckon that that's up to us, Clopin! With a fight like that in 'er, I suppose she can do whatever she wants!"

"Haha!" Clopin swung me in his arms, smiling at me when I laughed and smiled back. We rushed out of the room, hurrying away to an alley accessed by a back door. He shut the door and had to stop to catch his breath from laughing so hard. We leaned against the wall, sliding down to a sitting position. His hand slipped into mine as we caught our breath, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

"I still can't believe you drew a piece on him!" Clopin's perfectly accented voice seemed to smile. "They definitely won't...um...use foul language to describe you again."

"I wasn't about to let that brute offend my honor," I playfully joked.

"Neither was I." Clopin's voice lost some of it's luster.

"I-I also didn't..." Embarrassed, I stopped talking.

"What?" Clopin turned to look at me. When I blushed, he started to smile again.

"It's just, I mean, I didn't want him to..."

"Come on, you can tell old Clopin, mo cherie."

"...hurt you."

Clopin stared at me a moment, then .?action=edit&item_id=1663522ed. "Who, Jacque? Oh no, that was just a little tiff, darling. It would have ended in two minutes, but your...interruption, ended it sooner."

"So, how would if have...ended?"

"Oh, Jacque might have lost the top of his ear, nothing serious, maybe a new scar. Why were you so worried that I might get hurt?"

I simply smiled up at him, burrowing my head further into his shoulder.

"Ah." He smiled now, resting his cheek on my head, holding me closer to him.

I knew what was coming next, but I still felt just as tingly when he lifted my chin and pushed my hair back out of my face as I had the first time. His soft lips reached mine, and mine eagerly pushed back against his own, his tongue gently brushing my lips.

Suddenly the door that exited to the alley opened, and we pulled apart in alarm. Another gypsy man stood there, embarrassed. "What?" Clopin frowned, irritated.

"Oh, well you see..."

"Yes, spit it out."

"We can't find La Esmeralda."

"What?" Clopin stood up in alarm.

"We looked all through the Court. She's not here."

"Are you sure?" I suddenly felt very out of place.

"There's talk that Frollo's trapped her in Notre Dame. Has the whole place surrounded by soldiers."

I gasped. Clopin looked my way, but I must have looked too shocked to give any suspicion that I knew about it.

"What's that?" The man turned to look over his shoulder."Oh. Clopin, they need to see you."

"I-" He turned to look at me. Walking over, he took my hands into his own. I nodded. "I'll be right back. Stay here, cherie."

He followed the man through the wooden door, shutting me in the allley. I sank to my knees. No. Nonononono...

He had acted so strange, a curtain was around his . He hadn't let me near it. She saved him from the crowd at the festival. She was trapped at Notre Dame. He would help her...

I stayed where I was, trying to figure things out. What would make him go crazy enough to disobey Frollo? The only time I had known him to go against what his master said was when he had gone to the Festival, and when he had become my friend. Why had he disobeyed him then?

...love...

He came to the Festival because he loved the idea of being with other people, treated equally. He was my friend because he loved me...as a friend. "I will always love you."

He loved her.

Not me. He would never love me.

And why should he? I was sitting here, waiting for a gypsy man I barely knew, just kissing him minutes before. H ewas probably with her now, and she was holding up his chin, just like I had so many times, rubbing his lovely red hair, waiting to kiss him...

I shook this thought out of my head. She wouldn't kiss him. She didn't love him. She would toy with his heart, only to break it and run off with some handsome gypsy, possibly the one I was waiting for now. Or she would cause the death of all the gypsies, including herself. Frollo would kill Quasimodo for helping her. And I would be alone.

I will be alone.

A drop fell on my hand. The water was warm, spilling out of my eye. Just one tear. One tear could hod so much sadness.

I stood up to leave. I didn't know what I was about to do, but I went to the door. The wooden door was cracked open, and I pushed it slowly open. I was greeted by Clopin's upside-down face. He grinned down at me, backflipping to land on his feet.

"Couldn't wait for me, eh?"

I smiled. I didn't know how, but Clopin could make me smile when everything went wrong. Also, I felt a certain obligation to look happy in his home.

"Come, I will take you somewhere." He led me by the waist to a door a few feet away from the other one. Unlike the previous door, this one was blocked by a ripped tarp. It was dark inside. He lit a small oil lamp, and I looked around, surprised. It was his bedchambers.

I small bed lay along a wall beside me, and a desk lay against the other wall. A rug covered the floor, and the small light cast a romantic glow about the room. I turned back to look at him, and he cast me a lopsided grin, cocking one eyebrow.

"Here we may not be, interrupted." His accent was to die for.

He slipped his arms around me, and once more I melted in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Quasimodo, My Love:Part 3

[Introduction] Just like the others, this contains stuff created by Victor Hugo and Walt Disney, NOT ME! I don't own the Hunchback of Notre Dame!

He held me closer, softly breathing on my ear. I shuddered, his strong arms supporting me by the curve of my lower back, and breathed in his delicious scent. I could smell the light sweat on his skin, mixed with an earthy musk. Our lips embraced, with a force of passion on both parts. His breathing quickened, and my lips parted slightly. Our tongue tips met, and soon embraced. I tasted sweet blackberry wine in his mouth, and my knees soon buckled.

He dipped me onto the bed, running his hands through my hair. he sat beside me, and I felt one of his hands leave my side, and the room went dark. The hand soon returned, and I gratefully stroked his stubbled face. My hands ran through his glossy, black hair, and I began to think of all the things that I loved about him; his smell, his hair, his laugh, his accent, his kiss. I love him, I love him, I love him...

I began to see an image through my closed eyes. As he kissed me all the more passionately each minute, I began to hear bells.

Bells.

The image soon became clear, more focused. I saw a horseshoe mouth, a scrunched up nose, and a large wart that covered one of a pair of blue eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. I knew those eyes. I knew their wearer. I froze, shocked. As I watched my mind's image, I saw fresh tears spilling out of them.

Oh, Quasi, how could I do this? I was here, kissing a stranger, in an unknown place, hoping that somehow you could possibly possess feelings for me. What was wrong with me?

Clopin paused, confused. He gently pulled away, raising a hand to his face, and was surprised to find my tears there. He reached out to me, only to find more tears running down my cheeks.

"Oh, Clopin." I buried myself in his shoulder, crying my eyes out. His arms raised instinctively to hold me, while he sat, shocked.

"W-what is wrong? Are you hurt? Did I-?"

"Oh no, it's nothing you've done. I just...oh, Clopin."

He sat there, holding me still in his arms. We stayed there for a minute, then he rose, gently pulling me up with him. We walked out of the room, into the next one, finding the men from before passed out in a drunken haze. Clopin rolled his eyes at them, and we soon had exited the Court of Miracles.

We walked along the now dark streets of Paris, keeping our eyes out for guards. Seeing none, Clopin led me to my sleeping house. My room lay on the side of the house, so he carried me in through the window, silently pushing back the shutters. He laid me onto the bed, holding my head in his arms. I cried some more. When I had stopped, I sat up, shuddering a sigh. Clopin held me, rubbing his hands along my arms. Trying to lighten the tone, he spoke:

"Uh, those men, they...should have had a live wire like you to keep them awake, eh? Wow!"

I smiled, looking up at him. How was it that he could make me smile when everything went wrong?

"Clopin, how can I be a Little Priestess when I am so unholy?"

"Haha! Is this what all these tears were for? Don't worry, Ashley, if you are to be unholy, then I most surely will be unholy with you!"

I laughed. "No, it's not that, it's just...God, why am I so cruel to people?"

"Cruel? Ha, if that's what you call "cruel", then I'd love to see your idea of kind!"

I laughed, hugging him. He smiled, laughing back. When we had stopped laughing, he looked out the window, watching the moon. His smile faded, and he looked down at me as if to say, I have to go.

He kissed my forehead, and started to climb out the window, hand on the sill. "Wait!" I held my hand out, as if to stop him from going. He looked back at me, intrigued. My hand returned to my lips, and, blushing, I said: "I mean, would you like to, um, stay the night?"

He drew breath, as if to speak, but didn't respond. He seemed to be in undecided thought. He looked back at the moon, then, lingering for a moment, turned to me, and said:"You know what? My men are asleep, so there's nothing to talk about, and even if they were awake, the only thing to discuss would be my poor leadership skills. Plus, I haven't had a night's sleep in days."

I smiled as he lowered back down onto the bed beside me. "Is your mother a light sleeper?"

"Oh, no; she sleeps like a rock. As long as your gone before seven o'clock, she'll never have known you were here."

He sighed, stretching himself out on the bed, one arm behind his head and the other around me. I smiled, curling myself into his shoulder, hand on his chest. I looked up at his handsome face, a smile upon it that was framed by a short black beard. He opened one eye to look at me. Grinning, he cocked an eyebrow in that mischievious way of his. "What?"

"Your just too breath taking for words."

He rolled his eyes, shifting positions so that he was closer to the headboard. I sighed as i moved closer up onto his warm breast. I knew that I was not going to be able to sort out my situation before morning, so for the time being, I allowed myself to be happy. I fingered the dark purple cloth of his shirt, listening to his breathing. Soon, laying there beside him, I was lulled into a gentle sleep...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ He stared at the sleeping girl laying beside him. He would watch her sleep. Curled up like a child next to him, he scooted her closer to his chest, laying his cheek against her hair. He closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating sleep over watching her, but they were soon opened to the sound of her cries. She was whimpering quietly, as though in pain. Her body curled up, her knees to her chest, her eyes closed tight, biting her teeth together. Her grip had tightened on his shirt, and she talked, as though in a dream, not sure of what she was saying.

"No, no, Fro-llo, no, run..."

He looked at her with concern, realizing that she was having a nightmare. He started to wake her up, afraid that she might scream and awaken her mother. She continued to talk in her sleep.

"No, no, no, Quasi, I...Quasi I love you..."

He froze. He replayed what she had said over and over again in his mind."Quasi I love you...Quasi I love you..."

He looked at her again. She was relaxed now, a small smile on her face. He sighed. Tried to tell himself she was just another girl, plenty more to go around. But she wasn't. She had been different. He had even began to think that he might be-no, impossible. "No matter now," he thought, turning to climb out the window.

Suddenly, her grip tightened again, as though she knew that he was leaving. He looked back. A tiny tear had slid down her face. She began to talk again, curling up again.

"No, no, I don't-know, no, I don't...know...Clopin, I-I love...Clopin I love you."

He sat back, confused. He held her in his arms again, thinking about what she had just said. "Clopin I love you...Clopin I love you..."

"Okay then," he spoke quietly to himself. "I love you too."

She relaxed again, curling herself against his chest once more. She smiled, her tear now dried. His cheek laid against her hair again, he closed his eyes, her breathing a melody in his mind.

"I think."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The first rays of sunlight made me blink my sleepy eyes open. I sat up, stretching my tired limbs, and when I dropped my arms to my sides again, my eyes wavered to my fingertips. I froze. A man was next to me on the bed. I jumped back, frightened,clutching at my chest.

I studied the sleeping face, and when I saw the tan skin, glossy black hair, and short beard, I relaxed, recognizing him as Clopin. Remembering the good parts of last night, I smiled, fancying him a child, dreaming his sweet dreams. My eyes moved to the bedside table, and I caught sight of a broken pair of spectacles. They had broken when I had fainted at the Festival, and I had never bothered to fix them because Clopin had told me that I was prettier without them.

I laid down beside him again, smiling when I felt him stir, hugging him closer. He stretched, yawning, and I soon felt the familiar warmth of his arms on my sides. I hugged his neck, turning up to look at him. He smiled at me, exposing a pyramid-shaped gap in his teeth that I loved, nearly fainting when my tongue had brushed over it the night before.

"Good morning."

His delicious accent curled around my ears, and I leaned my head into his breast again, whispering, "Good morning." I breathed in, hoping for the familiar scent of earth and musk. I did smell it, faintly, but there was another, more common and familiar scent as well. I blushed into sudden realization, and looked up at him, embarrassed. He tried not to, but was obviously having trouble holding his laughter in. When he could hold it in no longer, I heard him say through stifled laughter,"Y-your face-it's as red as a tomato! What's all this blushing for, eh?"

I shyly grinned at him. "You smell like me."

He stared at me a minute, then, covered his mouth, trying not to make noise with his laughing. I hugged his neck again, grinning at my foolishness. He composed himself, holding me in his arms once more, breathing gently on my ear. He fingered my hair, studying each strand and the way it looked in the sunlight. His long fingers slid along my jawline, gently lifting up my chin, leaning his forward towards mine...

We heard a knock at the door.

Clopin froze, then quickly jumped under the bed, away from the door's view. I pulled my blankets up to my chin, half-closing my eyes. My mother's head silently appeared as the door pushed open. She seemed to think that I was asleep, because she smiled, then pulled her head back from the door frame. I didn't pull out of the covers until I heard her shut her own door down the hall.

Clopin pulled himself back onto the bed, sighing. I cast my eyes down, knowing that he would have to leave now. I saw him sit there, staring at his hands, as though not sure what to say.

Suddenly, I realized that I was very tired of being confused and worried. I didn't know who I loved, Quasimodo or Clopin. I was such a weak, ridiculous girl, in love with a gypsy for his charm and what he felt each day, his pain and struggle; a stupid, selfish girl in love with a deformed outsider that I loved for his hurt and soul, his pain and longing, both such powerful loves. For one moment, I wanted them both...but one would never love me, and this one...he might care for me, he would hold me and kiss me, maybe love me. I would never hold the poor misshapen boy in my beautiful church building in my heart's grasp, because we both had fallen pray to a trap of Paris-we were both in love with gypsies. I stared at mine, my chin trembling. He had began to look my way, and I was immediately overcome with romanticism as I stared into those eyes, that tan face, the short beard, and i lunged forward.

My arms wrapped around his neck, my eyes closing to the image of his surprised face. He nearly fell backward from surprise, but as my lips landed smoothly along his, his arms took hold of me, holding me in his strong grasp. A swirl of colors spun through my brain, purples and golds, blues and oranges, pinks and reds, and the music of a piper played in the background. I saw the wonders of the sky-high view of Paris, the shining beauty of the Court of Miracles, and the feelings of all the gypsy kisses of my secret past, all flooded before my spinning mind. His fingers pressed against my skull through my thick hair, the fingers of the next hand against my hip. His arms pressed against my back, and I ran my hands through his coarse hair, lifting his hat off his head and placing it onto my own. He kissed me with a force that he never had before; strangely; it seemed like he had never kissed anyone before, because each moment he acted more eager and surprised than the last. I forgot everything at that moment, melting there in his arms, wishing that I could stay here forever.

But all things must come to an end. We both pulled gently away, faces still mere inches from each other, eyes still half-closed. He looked at me with a pleased, yet tired expression.

His eyes darted to my head, and he laughed, covering my eyes with the hat. I smiled, putting it back onto his own head, then twirling my finger on the tip of his nose. He grinned at my playfulness, catching sight of the window as he did. He smile dropped, and he hurriedly climbed onto the sill. Pulling my chin forward, he quickly kissed me again, then jumped away, slipping into an alley back to the Court of Miracles.

- "Quasi, please open up. It's Ashley."

I had stood at the door knocking for several minutes, listening to the sounds of bustle within. I knew that he must have been hiding Esmeralda in this time, but I tried to place it out of my mind, rolling my eyes at the thought. I smiled. I was becoming more like Clopin everyday.

The door opened, and his face appeared. I sighed in relief. I had been away from him for so long, I had started to forget his sweet face and expressions. I smiled at him, wondering if he would let me inside.

"Oh, Ashley. Please, come in."

"I'm sorry I haven't visited in so long," I said, taking a step into the room, which was not as overturned as I had expected it to be.

"Long? It hasn't been that long ago now, has it?"

I bit my lip. He hadn't even noticed that I was gone. Biting my lip, I said,"Well, it has been a little over a week," trying to tell myself that I deserved it and shouldn't expect anymore. I thought about it, remembering how much Frollo had upped the stakes for gypsies wandering through Paris. I hadn't been able to see Clopin but from afar, to the sight of him being chased by more soldiers.

"Wow, I-I had no idea that it was so long ago...have you been well?"

I shrugged, smiling at him painfully. "As well as I could be without seeing you." He blushed, and I ran to give him a long overdue embrace. As he pulled away from our hug, I saw a slight tear roll down his cheek, as he had seemed to just remember his long childhood friend."What has kept you, my friend?"

I looked down, unable I supposed to admit what had "kept" me was a handsome gypsy's lips. "I just...thought that you weren't feeling like guests for a while there, and I got...tangled up with someon-I mean, something."

He guiltily bowed his head, sorry that he had sent me away before. "I was...tangled up with something as well."

I decided to change the subject. I walked to his work table, on which sat a miniature version of Paris. I looked at the small figures that he had carved, remembering the day he had showed me the doll of myself. I smiled, picking it up. He walked over to me, and I handed it to him. "Remember when you showed this to me?"

He blushed, grinning to himself."Yes and when I put it in your hand, you squeezed me by the neck and kissed my ear."

"What? No way, I don't remember that!"

He laughed at me, and I laughed back, finding his character on the table...standing next to a newer doll. This one held a tambourine in its dark hands, and a small goat stood beside her. Her colorful clothes and dark hair held instant recognition in my mind, and I stopped my laughter, staring at it in disbelief. No doubt was in my mind now that she was hiding behind the curtain around his bed at that very moment. I tried, unsuccessfully, to bit back the tear that was now running down my face. Quasi stared up at me, concerned. I picked up the demon witch that he had carved, fingering her carefully painted raven hair, her tiny tambourine made with immeasurable detail. My face curved to fit the array of tears that now had begun to fall. I angrily wiped them away, glaring at him with my hurt eyes. Surprised, he held his hands up in defense, glancing at the doll in my hand, still confused. After all these years, how...how could he POSSIBLY be confused? How? All the years of my friendship, all of my years of running to him when I needed to be comforted, and I running to him when he needed the same.

I held the doll up in my hand, shaking. "W-who is this? As if I didn't know. How? How could you-how could you even think of hiding her here? W-what about Frollo? He. Would. KILL YOU, if he knew she was here!"

Shocked, his hand flew to his breast, grasping something through his shirt. I could see the outline of what looked like a crude caricature of a fish, but he soon revived himself, dropping the hidden object. He stepped forward, straightening up, defensive. "I-I don't know what your talking about. I have no idea where she is. I-"

"Oh, don't lie to me, Quasimodo. I know she's here. I've known since I heard that she had been trapped in the cathedral. I knew how strange you were acting a week ago, and I know what a terrible liar you are."

He stood there, speechless. Finding his voice, he stuttered, "Wh-what was I supposed to do, Ashley? S-she helped me, and now she needs has nowhere to go-"

"Oh, please. She could easily go to the Court of Miracles. Frollo doesn't know where it is, and Clopin and his men have been worried sick about where she's hiding."

I heard a gasp from the curtained portion of the room, but I ignored it. Perhaps now the vixen would learn to think of her friends when she made unwise actions.

"Clopin?" Quasi looked at me, confused once more. "Who is-"

"King of the Gypsies. I have been in the Court of Miracles. He's worried to death about the girl, and he's working himself sick."

"Why were YOU in the Court of Miracles?" He sounded suspicious.

He had hurt me, and now, though I hate to admit it, I wanted to hurt him. Rolling my eyes, I said sarcastically,"I suppose you could say I was helping,"clean out," the King's personal chambers."

He backed away, repulsed. "Y-you mean, you-"

"Relax, Quasimodo, I'm still pure enough for the church, but just barely."

He sat on his stool, one hand on his thigh, the other holding up his forehead. He looked dizzy.

"Of course, the little witch behind that curtain is impure enough to be struck down by lightning in here."

He looked up at me, surprised. His expression turned to anger, and he stood up, limping toward me. I backed away, but still glared at him. He kept walking until I was up against a post. He stood on a piece of wood, rendering us eye to eye. He looked liked he had done so many years ago, when I had come to see him before lunchtime. No, it was different. Then his anger was not so much towards me as at the world. Now he stared at me like I was one of the imbeciles that laughed at him, as if my worth were no more than that of a bug. My expression softened, hurt.

"D-don't you EVER say that about her. That may be what you and all the others think, but it's not true. Sh-she's more than that. Impure? Ha! An angel cannot be impure. She's an angel, Ashley. She's my friend...and I thought you were, too."

I stared at him a moment, into those blue eyes that no longer seemed familiar. I pushed him away, swallowing the urge to sob. I moved toward the staircase, turning my back on him. I opened the door, and paused for a moment. Then I said something that I will regret for the rest of my life.

"She doesn't love you, Quasimodo. And she never will."

I shut the door.

- I ran down the stairs, not caring who I saw. Frollo, the priests, the nuns, no one. I pushed past the people, holding back the tears.

She had taken him from me. My beautiful, precious Quasimodo. She had taken him, and he had gone with her willingly. I was certain of his fate now.

I hurried past the priest, barely stopping to bow my head in respect. I hurried so fast, not caring where I went. I nearly ran straight into the soldier standing in the middle of the room. I tried to mutter an apology, but I could not help looking up into his face. Quite handsome. Wavy, blond hair, with a bit of a beard on his face. I wanted to go, but something about him seemed familiar. Of course. The day in the square, when Frollo had instructed him to arrest the gypsies. Captain of the Guard.

"You."

"Er, excuse, have we met?"

"No, but my friends and I were nearly met with a jail cell, thanks to your commanding officer."

"W-what? But-but, your not-"

"A gypsy? No, I'm not, but I can tell you're looking for one."

He looked at me, surprised. He looked around, making sure that no one was listening. Lowering his voice, he said, "La Esmeralda? Do you know where she is?"

Angry as I was, I still felt it my duty to keep her whereabouts secret, at least for Clopin and Quasi's sake. "No...why?"

"Please, I'm a friend. My name is Phoebus, and she told me to meet her here. Rather, her goat did." I noticed the small animal standing beside him. "I even have the message she sent me. Look!'

He handed me a crumpled sheet of parchment, with spindly handwriting running across it. I looked into his eyes. I was taken aback by what was there. I had only seen that look a few times before, when I saw a reflection of myself when talking to Quasimodo, and when Quasi had told me about what an angel Esmeralda was. Oh, so the Captain of the Guard was smitten with little Ms. Vagabond too, hm? I sighed. Was there no one in this bloody town that did not feel for this wretch?

"Go to the bell tower, Captain Doofus-"

"Phoebus."

"Right, whatever. I doubt he'll let you in, but you may as well try."

I turned to go, walking away from this ass. "Hey, wait!" he called, but I ignored him. He could figure it out for himself. Meanwhile, I had to get out of here. I was close to breaking down, and each step made me feel all the more weary. Where would I go? Home? No, my mother would only pester me with questions about what was wrong, why was I crying. Charlotte's? Tempting, but it would do me no good to go there. I was left with one option.

The Court of Miracles.

Of course. I would tell Clopin that I loved him, that I could never be with the hideous monster upstairs. I tried to convince myself of this, that I could not truly be in love with Quasimodo, how could I possibly love him? He loved that gypsy witch, and if he had feelings for her, he couldn't possibly be my true love. But I knew it was a lie. His sweet expressions, his beautiful voice and pale blue eyes, his kindness and gentle nature...everything about him drew me towards him.

No. I must go to Clopin. I hurried out of the church, trying to remember how I had felt when he had brushed my hair out of my face, when his tender lips had met mine, while his hands held strongly to my waist. I loved him, I loved him, I had to have loved him...

- I entered the Court quite easily. After the crowd of gypsies had run down to the sewers, I explained to Jacques, who just happened to be one of the guards, that I was there to see Clopin. I ran steadily to the wooden building, moving around to the back alley. I passed the governing room beside his own, hearing a great many arguing voices within. I stopped at the door tarp, listening for a sound. Oh, please, don't let him be with another girl.

Hearing noting, I gently pulled back the oiled tarp, peering inside. He stood there, arms crossed, facing the wall. His back was turned towards me, and he was speaking. No one else was in the room, and he didn't know that I was there.

"Oh, Esme...why?"

I drew in a quick breath.

"He's coming, Esme, he's coming...for all of us...why did you do it?"

His head bent low, I was startled to see a tear slide down the side of his face. I drew away, hand covering my mouth. I backed away, leaving him to himself. He loved her, too.

I ran away.

- The buildings of Paris flew by, and my bare feet barely felt the rough cobblestone beneath them. I wouldn't have felt them if were running on broken glass; I was too preoccupied with the feeling of tears rolling down my cheeks. I blindly rushed past all of the people, ignoring their stares.

I ran for as long as my lungs would allow, and when I stopped to catch my breath, I looked up at Notre Dame, afraid of what I would see. For an instant, I thought that I had seen the silhouette of a girl, scaling down the side of the great church, but when I looked again, she was gone.

I started running again. The sun had completely sunk below the horizon, but I didn't care. If I never returned, what did it matter? What did I have to return to?

Unfortunately, exhaustion won out in the end. I sank to my knees, my legs burning after the blind dash. I held my head in my hands, sobbing. Staring up at the night sky, I saw it. The Wishing Star. The evil, glowing orb that had tricked me throughout my childhood, and now held it's bright gaze on me, mocking me with it's cruel indifference.

"Have YOU made a wish, you cruel, evil thing? Was your wish for me to die of a broken heart, to lie in anguish, praying for the sting of death? If so, then you are just about to receive it!"

I heard a sound then, in the dark. Men, women, and some children. I looked around, searching for a mob. Behind me, in the narrow Parisian street, a group of soldiers marched forward, herding with them a sea of dark faces.

Gypsies.

I backed away, wiping the tears off my face. At the front of the line, Claude Frollo stood, personally pulling forward a beautiful tan-faced girl. She was struggling, but it was obvious in her eyes that she had lost hope. This was La Esmeralda.

Captain Phoebus was shortly behind them, but, instead of pulling a gypsy forward with the rest of his men, HE was being tugged along. He was resisting like Esmeralda, but his expression held the same fate as her's. A huge mass of gypsies was walking with Frollo's men, some trying to run, others' faces downcast, some even crying. When they past me towards the square, I saw that they were being led into large wooden crates, with wheels on the bottom. The soldiers pulled them the center of town, and I caught one last look at Clopin before he was shoved into a cage with the others. I saw no hope in his brown eyes.

When the crates had passed on to the square, I stood there, spellbound. I turned behind me to see two other soldiers behind me, pulling along a single man. His head was hung in silence and pain, and he made no attempt to help the men as they pulled him along. Grunting, they dragged him by his arms toward the great church.

I recognized the figure, as I would anywhere. Quasimodo. His hunched back stood out, and the men began to converse, as though he weren't even there.

"How we gonna keep him in there, eh? He breaks all the ropes."

"Frollo said to make sure he stays here. We'll use chains. Don't suppose he'll wriggle out a them!"

"No, you'll give us no trouble at all, will ya, 'unchback? 'Cause if ya do, I'm sure Frollo won't mind too much if we made CERTAIN that you won't, hehe!"

No reply.

Still grunting, the pulled open the doors leading him inside. Chain him up. Let him watch the girl he loved die.

Well, I wasn't about to watch the two men I loved die. I stared up at the old church, probably for the last time. The stone carvings which covered it seemed to whisper goodbye to me as I took a deep breath, then walked toward the second set of doors of Notre Dame Cathedral.

- I stood at the top of Notre Dame, overlooking the burning city. I had watched as the men tied her to the wooden post, throwing firewood at her feet. Her eyes were vacant. Dead.

I had climbed to the roof of the opposite towering of where they had tied Quasimodo. It was a struggle to reach the top of the cathedral from a window, like the one that Quasi had showed me so long ago, but I had done it. The air was now still, as if the wind were holding its breath for what was about to begin.

Hundreds, it seemed, of gypsies waited in cages around the large bonfire that was to soon engulf them all. La Esmeralda was tied at the center, and I could faintly hear Frollo's conviction of her crimes. The cries of the citizens and the gypsies could be heard up to the sky, indignation plain in their tones and faces. It was useless. nothing could stop Frollo now. All hope was lost.

I took a long look at the archdeacon who had caused me so much trouble and grief. I truly wished that I could believe that this was all his fault, but I still felt it was mine.

I breathed in the beginning scent of ashes and sulfur, taking one last look at the sun-ridden sky that burned like embers. No pain would be felt. That was the good thing. The bad thing was the pain that would be felt all the way down.

Deep breath.

I closed my eyes, and jumped.

- I could hear it, faintly at first; the sound of someone's cry. Someone shouting a fierce "No!", and the ringing of thousands of bells. Through the wind rushing past my ears, I could faintly hear Quasimodo's voice.

For an instant, I believed that he had seen me, and that he was coming to rescue me at last, save me from this cruel world. But then I looked, and I couldn't see him anywhere near me. I turned to my left, and I could see, just barely, that a figure was swooping down, far below, to what seemed to be a rescue of HER, not me. I felt sad at this, but the wind blew to fast for me to cry.

I fell on.

- I promised myself that I would not look down. I had told myself that it would do no good, to see the cause of my demise coming. But Just barely, my eyes had flickered open, had looked down out of morbid temptation, and I had seen the ever advancing cobblestone.

I screamed.

I screamed my lungs raw, even though I knew it would not help. I shut my eyes, at last wiling away the urge to cry out. I braced for the impact, and the ground seemed to call to me, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming...

I hit hard.

The wind in my lungs left me, and In saw black. Faintly, in the back of what I assumed was my head, I began to hear a voice. Rustic and startled, it seemed familiar to me. I moved with a heavy accent, and for a moment I wondered to myself, do angels have dialects?

"Little Priestess? Is that you? W-where did you come from? How did you fall? Little Priestess? Little Priestess, answer me!"

Little Priestess. Only one person would call me that. I opened my eyes, thinking that Clopin had burned quickly, before I had hit the ground, but when I saw that the sky was still as burning red as I had left it, I realized that I had not fallen to my death. Rather, I had fallen into Clopin's conveniently outstretched arms.

"C-Clopin? is that you?"

"Oh, thank the stars, mo cherie. You nearly killed when you did not answer. What..happened? Where did you fall? Why-"

He looked up, trying to pinpoint my falling point. When he saw that the only place within dropping distance, he looked back at me, a sickening stroke of realization on his face.

"Y-you? How? Why?"

His expression turned to anger, and He held me tighter, shaking me in his arms. "Jumped. Of course. You jumped. Why? Why would try-oh, do you have any idea what you do to me with these things? When you were crying that night, I felt as though a hole had been cut through my heart, and now you say that you tried to kill yourself? How did you think I would feel when I saw your crumpled body laying on the streets of Paris? How did you think I would feel when I tried to call out your name, to hold you in my arms again, when you did not answer to Little Priestess, when your lips felt cold against my own?" He pushed me to his chest, sighing as he held me in his arms.

Confused, I pushed against him, looking him in the eye. "How did you think I would feel when I saw you pining after Esmeralda, when I saw the look in your eyes when she brought that soldier home with her?" Anger leaked into my voice, tough I wished I could push it away.

Confusion now seeped into his tone. "Esme? W-what? You think I-oh, ugh, Ashley, you...she is like my sister, Ashley, I raised her."

"What?"

"I was worried about her because Frollo was trying to find her-to find all of us."

He frowned. "You mean to tell me that you jumped because of jealousy? Because you thought that I loved her?"

I blushed. "N-no, that's not why I jumped." Or was it? "I-I jumped because...because Frollo was going to kill all of you, and because-even if you escaped, I did think that you-and Quasimodo..."

I willed away the tears. Not now, nor ever again would I shed a tear over this business. Clopin looked at me, concerned, but I cast my head downward, shamed.

"I-I love you, Clopin," I said slowly," But, I love him, too."

He had placed me on my feet at this point, and I pulled myself away from his embrace, turning away. I was unwilling to look him in the eye, unable to face what I felt sure would be hatred in his gaze. I was surprised when I felt his arms slid around my waist from behind, and when he placed his cheek against my temple, I blinked, startled.

"I know."

"How?"

"That night...when you were sleeping, you whispered...'I love you, Quasi.' Then you whispered, 'I love you, Clopin.'"

I turned to face him, still in his arms. So I did talk in my sleep. My mother had always told me I did, but I had never believed her. We stared at each other long and hard. I wished that I could look into those brown eyes and whisper that I loved him, that he was the only one that I could possibly care about, but I couldn't. I knew in my heart that I loved Quasimodo, and as much as I wanted to tell Clopin that I would forget all about him, I knew I couldn't.]

"You love him," he concluded, reading my thoughts. I sighed.

"I do."

"You realize, that I could give you everything-everything you ever wanted. You would be the Queen of the Gypsies. I would love you, hold you, kiss you...anything," he whispered these thoughts to me, almost pleading. How UnClopin-like. He was not one to seem vulnerable.

"I will always love you, Clopin, but he..."

I was cut off, rather abruptly, by the force of his lips against mine. My hands reflexively raised to move through his soft hair, and I smelled that familiar smell of sweat and musk, perhaps for the last time. I felt like I would cry when our lips slowly opened for what seemed like the thousandth unholy time, but I remained surprisingly calm. His hands moved over the back of my neck, and I felt the urgency in his mood, as though he were trying to tell me something, no, convince me of something. I didn't care; all I cared about at that moment was that I could hold him, kiss him just one more time, to savor all the wonderful memories of him...

We pulled away gently, and we both knew that this was the last time that we could be together. For one instant, he looked back at me with that same pleading look in his eyes, and then it was gone, as if his personality had suddenly jumped back under his skin. He calmly held me in his gaze, smiling at me with that crooked grin of his, cocking his eyebrow in that familiar fashion.

"You! Gypsy, where did you come from?"

We turned sharply to face Claude Frollo and his horde of soldiers. I looked behind us, trying to answer that question myself, when I saw a open cage door with a blackened-eyed soldier laying beside it. Facing Frollo again, I reeled in horror at his distraught appearance. His face was more haggard than usual, his gnarled old finger pointed out accusingly. His hair stuck out in tuffs from under his pointed hat, and his yellowed teeth were bared in anger. About five or six men stood behind him, and we were obviously outnumbered.

Clopin stiffened up, held on to me more tightly, opening his mouth as if to say something that would only anger him more. No, I would not cause him to get into trouble. Not this time.

"What are YOU doing here, you waste of flesh and bones?"

Frollo stared at me, shocked. I spoke with greater confidence than I felt. I pulled myself away from a horror-stricken Clopin, casting him a "don't worry, save yourself" glance. He was the one that needed to leave, not me.

I marched up to the archdeacon, the weight of my malice in each footstep. "You miserable, horrid, disgusting old man, you!" I screamed into his face. "It is YOUR fault! All of this! You treated him like a dog! You tried to kill him! You beat him and wrapped him in chains, and you didn't care! I hate you!" I spit into his calm face, wishing that I could hold a knife to his throat as well, as I had done to the gypsy in the Court of Miracles. His expression remained as calm and disgusted as before.

His men encircled me quickly, and Clopin, shocked and worried , hurried away after throwing me another frightened glance.

They grabbed me by my arms, staring up at their master like dogs waiting to be fed. With heartless eyes boring into my skull, he said, "Bring her to the Palace of Justice. Lock her in the dungeon, and make sure she stays there."

They pulled me roughly away, my feet dragging along the cobblestone. My eyes burned with hatred as I watched him coolly wipe away the wetness on his cheek, then preceded to the hangman's stage.

I kept my head down as the brutish guards carried me away, hoping that they would obey his orders and only place me into the dungeon, not take my punishment into their own hands. I cringed at the thought, and tried to remember that this was for my friend, that I had saved him, at least I hoped so. Clopin was street smart; he knew every back alley and crevice there was in Paris. The bright red sky hung over us as the Palace of Justice drew closer.

- The dungeon was dank and filthy, much different from the clean and bright atmosphere above. Mildew clung to the walls, and a rat scurried past our feet. Grumbling, the guards reached a wooden door with a set of bars at the bottom for food. Unlocking it, the brusquely tossed me inside, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now you've prob'ly made us miss the witch's burnin', wench! Normally we'd set to "punishing" you, but we don't think that Frollo'll mind if we hurry on back. Lucky for you, we'll at least get to see the rest o' them gypsies burn, hehe!"

With that, he shut they shut the door, enclosing me in the darkness. I held my breath, listening for a sound, a breath, anything to signal that I was not alone. When I heard nothing but a rat's quick skitter, I relieved my tired lungs. No light penetrated trough the cold prison except for the small beams that came through the bars along the edge of the door. I hugged my legs, trying to keep warm. The mold etched itself along the walls of my lungs, making it hard to breath. I laid m forehead against my knees, crying softly to myself. I cursed myself inwardly, knowing it was silly and childish. I had what I wanted, didn't I? I wouldn't live to see my friends die; I would most likely die here, in this dank, smelly, awful place, never seeing the light of day again, fed crusts of bread and dirty water, abused by Frollo's men for the rest of my life.

Would he ever know? Would he ever know that I had loved him? Or would he finally have the perfect girl, the tan-skinned beauty who danced in the street for coins? Or would the arrogant Captain of the Guard have her? Would Frollo win, and all the gypsies die? Or would Clopin find some way to save them? Would Esmeralda die? Of course she would, her death was certain, as she had been tied to a post surrounded by flames when I had left her. But...wait. Hadn't it been Quasimodo that was swinging by on a rope, when I had been falling before? When I had thought that he was coming to save me? Of course, he would save her, and he would be safe! I smiled, brightening for a moment, then darkening again. No, Frollo was still in the picture. He wouldn't stop until he had stopped every last gypsy in the place. I buried my face again, trying to wipe away the tears with a dirt covered hand. My eyes stung with fresh tears, and I finally gave up and cried without trying to stop.

- "Is anyone here?"

Footsteps sounded in the quiet hallway. I started at the soft voice, a sweet sound that I knew well, that had broken the silence of the prison. For a moment, I didn't believe my ears. Surely, it couldn't be him; was he truly there, in the darkest times, so close in my grasp?

"Quasimodo?"

"Ashley? I-is that you?"

I moved quickly to the bars, grabbing them as I pulled my face through to see him more easily.

"What are you doing here? H-how did you-"

"What are YOU doing here? I-I thought they chained you up in Notre Dame!"

"T-they did-I broke the chains," he said, squatting down to look in the bars at the bottom of my cell door. He clutched my chilled hands in his, and from the light of the torch he carried I could just make out his sweet face. "What are you doing here?" He repeated, more softly this time.

"Frollo's guards brought me here after I-after I spit in his face."

He opened his one good eye wide. He sighed. "You seemed to have changed so much in this last week," he said, reaching to take my face in his hand, then pulling back.

Guilt bit into my stomach. "Quasi, I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to say those awful words, I was, I was just..."

"...Just?"

Deep breath.

"...jealous."

"What?"

"I love you, Quasimodo."

He gasped. There, I said it. I sighed in relief. I looked up in his eyes. Those big, blue, wondering eyes...

"W-what? Did you just say-"

"I love you, Quasi. You are the most wonderful person in this world, and I-I'm so sorry."

He stared at me for a long time, and I bowed my head, thinking that he must have been trying to think of a way to tell me that Esmeralda was the only one he could ever love. And why shouldn't she be? With her beauty and gypsy charm...I knew from personal experience just how captivating a gypsy could be.

I felt his warm fingers gently lift my chin up. He had a smirk on his face, and the dim light shone in his eyes. "Sorry? Sorry for what? I'm the one who should be sorry."

I started to protest, but he put his finger to my lips, leaning closer. His voice barely a whisper, he said, "Sorry for never realizing what was in front of me the whole time."

Cautiously, he pushed his lips against mine, a little nervous of his actions. My eyes opened wide at his touch. This was unlike any kiss I had shared with Clopin, and I suddenly hoped that I didn't have any recognizable traces left of the gypsy king. This was sweeter, more gentle, and I felt more at home here, like this was where I belonged, resting on Quasimodo's lips in a dungeon beneath Paris. So this was what true love felt like. Nothing felt more divine or perfect than this.

When he pulled away, all of his ugliness seemed to slip away, not that I had seen it there in 14 years. He was still my savior, my rescuer, my...love. He was Quasimodo, my love.

"I love you"

Those three words melted me, and I reached out to him to keep from fainting. I looked back at him, and sighed.

"You need to go back to them. They need your help."

"But I-I can't leave you here, you'll-"

"I'll be fine, but you need to go. Did you come here to find more gypsies?"

He nodded.

"Well, none are here. I'm the only prisoner. You must go back. I love you, but some of my friends are out there, too. They need your help. If something happens to Clopin, I'll lose one of my dearest friends."

He looked down akwardly.

"But if something happens to you, I'll lose my life."

He looked up, surprised at my harsh words. I sighed.

"Don't worry about me; I'm not going anywhere." I smiled

He smiled back, and stood up to leave, squeezing my hand one last time. "And Quasi-"

"Yes?"

"Come back for me."

He looked back, his face serious. "Nothing could stop me."

- In the morning he came back, and kissed me again. He took me home with him, and we asked the archdeacon when would be the best time for us to wed. My mother was outraged that I had kept this from her for so long, but she soon got over it. I worried about Clopin for a while, but lately, Charlotte has been awfully quiet, and I believe that I saw a pair of multicolored tights slip into her window last night.

Quasi and I are now married, and I am expecting to bring a new little bellringer into the world very soon. Quasi is ecstatic. We have decided to name the baby Marie if it is a girl, after Quasi's favorite bell, or Charles, if it is a boy, after Charlotte.

Everyday Quasimodo is busy carving new toys for the baby, and his face lights up when I come into the room. I love him. And he loves me.

Quasimodo, my love.


End file.
